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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27731152">Marital Woes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vacci_piano/pseuds/vacci_piano'>vacci_piano</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Break Up, Divorce, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Harry is not a good husband, Harry’s sexuality is open to interpretation, Implied Body Dysmorphia, M/M, Multi, No beta we die like mne, Pining, Pre-Slash, Unrequited Love, bisexual Ginny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:08:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,545</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27731152</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vacci_piano/pseuds/vacci_piano</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginny isn’t Ron. Harry tries to cope.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ginny Weasley/Other(s), Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley (One-sided), Harry Potter/Ron Weasley (one-sided), Hermione Granger &amp; Harry Potter &amp; Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Marital Woes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Harry first realized Ginny’s crush on him, he’d sneered at the thought of them together, simply because she wasn’t Ron. A silly little girl with a silly little crush, on a silly little boy with a silly little crush.</p><p>No. Not just a crush.</p><p>Harry had loved Ron since that fateful first meeting in the train. He’d been stupidly grateful when Ron had picked his side over Hermione’s during the broom debacle, because it meant he still had a chance. He’d cried with Hermione, when her heart was breaking because of Lavender, while his heart was breaking because of Hermione. Because he would lose.</p><p>He wasn’t accustomed to losing his battles, but he loved his two best friends dearly, and his best friends were in love. He’d sacrificed a lot in his life; he’d sacrificed his <em>life</em>. He could sacrifice this, too.</p><p>So Harry chose Ginny. The Weasley who was braver, better looking and smarter than her brother. And still it’s Ron he wants. But Ginny gave him a true, solid, <em>blood</em> connection to the Weasleys and he would always be grateful to her for that.</p><p>When Ginny decided to cut her hair short to the disappointment of her fans, she was pleasantly surprised to find her husband greatly preferred the look on her.</p><p>He’d press against her back and trail butterfly kisses against her spine, ask her to be <em>quiet</em> so the kids wouldn’t notice. She’d reach for her wand to cast a <em>Quietus</em> around their room so she wouldn’t have to be, but then he’d distract her with molten kisses. She remained shushed.</p><p>When she retired and started growing out her hair again, his kisses stopped.</p><p>Tabloids would write about Ginny Potter, née Weasley, the best player of her generation step into a restaurant with another conquest on her arm. None of them look like Harry. Some of them have blond or auburn hair, others have darker skin, others are of the female persuasion. Either they’re not famous at all or they’re more famous than Harry. Isn’t that the point? None of them are competing against him.</p><p>Harry had never been a good husband, but he could give her this.</p><p>Harry dreams of Yule balls, where Hermione dances with Victor Krum and Harry sits close to Ron, almost pressed against him, their knees touching. Of Quidditch matches, where the thunderous crowds vanish and Ron strides towards him on the empty field, a crown atop his head.</p><p>*</p><p>She loved him – still does, and that’s never going away – and her love for him turned into hatred of her own body. How could he repay her love like this?</p><p>But then… Maybe he’s not to blame. Maybe he never meant any of it, to reward her with affection and caresses. Maybe she just took and took and <em>took</em>.</p><p>Their unbecoming starts by chance.</p><p>She keeps getting these letters from her fans, and some of them are lovely. Some of them not so much. They’re meant to entice their recipient, meant to lavish her with love, but instead they leave her feeling… Unclean. As if she exists in a world to amuse her spectators. There’s this one persistent fan in particular, who keeps describing her hair in detail, the writer willing to make the words make love to her if they can’t do it in person and if Ginny isn’t willing to receive them; she isn’t, she never will be.</p><p>She doesn’t belong to her fans, so one night she comes home, bone-tired and there’s another one of those blasted letters. Ginny isn’t afraid – Ginny’s <em>pissed</em>.</p><p>So she cuts her hair and…</p><p>Harry hasn’t looked at her like <em>that</em> in years. Hasn’t ever touched her like that, she begins to think, when he takes her to bed. One day, after several nights spent embracing each other, she realizes the day she cut her hair was the first time he made love to her.</p><p>When she hates the woman that stares back at her in the mirror, the spitting image of her brothers, or perhaps one brother in particular, when she doubts her own mounting sorrow – so bad she can’t breathe – she’s met by a question she can’t answer. Wasn’t it him who encouraged her affections? Wasn’t it him who told her he loved her as she loved him, as she <em>loves</em> him?</p><p>Wasn’t it?</p><p>Did he ever?</p><p>*</p><p>Harry’s helping Ron in the kitchen. For all his mother taught him, and all the housekeeping spells she gifted him, Ron’s never been able to master cooking. Still, most days he gives it his best, owing to Hermione’s much busier schedule at the Ministry, and some of the grub... Well. It’s decent, is what it is. Decent enough he doesn’t feel embarrassed by guests showing up to dinner. It mightn’t net Hermione a promotion if she ever invites her superiors (not that she believes in bribery and would rather eat her own quill than admit that hard work alone won’t get her to the top), but it’s good enough for friends and family. It’s a lot better than what Harry can whip up, and Harry’s pretty decent; his time at the Dursley’s manning the stove at breakfast saw to that. It’s just that most of the dishes Harry knows have maybe a little too much grease and salt in them.</p><p>In any case, Harry’s never been fussy about what he has on his plate. He still eats Hagrid’s Rock Cakes with good cheer, something even Hermione can’t manage despite her overt politeness.</p><p>Ron’s using a spell to cut up some root vegetables when the kettle boils over and startles him. The hot pressure inside grows and starts spitting out clumps of foamy, boiling water onto the hob. He rushes to remove the lid, and in his haste forgets to use the potholders. “Bloody hell!” He curses as the lid damn near melts into his skin, scalding it in promise of blisters. He lets go, but by then it’s too late and he hisses in discomfort.</p><p>Harry takes over. When the kettle has been dealt with, he turns to Ron and grabs the injured palm. Ron keeps swearing but he lets Harry drag him into the bathroom. Buried in one of the cupboards is some sort of ointment for burns, some lotion or other that will heal him in seconds; Harry spreads it onto Ron’s skin with careful strokes. When the sting is gone, Harry doesn’t let go. He stares at Ron’s hand in his, mesmerized by the pink and soft skin, freshly healed and still sporting a smattering of freckles.</p><p>“Harry?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“You can let go now.”</p><p>Harry tenses up and squeezes tighter. The episode doesn’t last for long, and when Harry finally lets go, he gives Ron a sheepish grin.</p><p>“Sorry. Got lost in thought.”</p><p>Ron grins back and turns his back to Harry before it has time to transform into something more sincere, something Harry doesn’t need to see.</p><p>They finish up setting the table for three. Hermione isn’t coming home tonight in time for dinner, but Ron hasn’t told Harry yet.</p><p>“How are things with Ginny?”</p><p>Ron’s seen the tabloids. They all have. For added irony, he thinks the only one not in the know is his mother, who has finally learned not to trust everything she reads. <em>Lockhart</em>. <em>Skeeter</em>. According to her daughter and Harry both, there’s nothing to talk about.</p><p>“You don’t have to worry about me.”</p><p>“You’re my best mate. I’ll always worry about you.”</p><p>*</p><p>“How did he seem to you?”</p><p>Ron pulls Hermione close and their noses touch. They keep their eyes closed and the lights down low. Seeing would be painful.</p><p>A week later they’re woken up from their sleep by Harry’s figure darkening their bedroom’s doorway. Harry looks pale and his eyes are lost, mouth moving in shapes, but no words are coming out.</p><p>Ron and Hermione motion for Harry to get into bed with them, both of their arms outstretched towards their visitor. Harry kicks off his shoes and loses his jacket; his knees sink into the mattress, and he would’ve collapsed into it headfirst if Ron and Hermione hadn’t stopped his descent. They tug at his arms until he moves and can recline on the bed comfortably, squeezed between them. Hermione takes off his glasses and Ron hugs him to his chest.</p><p>“She left me.”</p><p>Hermione rubs Harry’s shoulder and gets up to make some tea. She can’t share her husband in all the ways that matter – she wishes she could – but this she can do. By the time she gets back, Harry’s unconscious form is clinging to Ron, like he’s afraid Ron will disappear.</p><p>It’s silly, really. As if Ron would ever let go of him. Or Hermione, for that matter. Why else would they give him the key to their home?</p><p>Hermione sets the cooling tea down, soon to be forgotten, and moves to get Harry’s socks off while Ron works and loosens Harry’s belt, and then the trousers are coming off. The shirt proves difficult to get rid of, but nothing a swish and a flick of the wand can’t fix. She slips behind Harry, and then they’re all tucked in.</p><p>She hopes that when they’re old and grey, she’s the first one to go.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There was a short sequel I was nearly finished with from Ginny's POV, but I decided to bin it. Might still do Ron's.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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